


you were a vision in the morning

by storhan



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Doctor Niall, Injured Harry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:05:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storhan/pseuds/storhan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He's dead, he thinks. Louis hit him too hard in the head and he died, and now there's an angel dressed as a doctor standing in front of him to take him to heaven.</i>
</p>
<p>Or, Harry hits his head and maybe falls a bit in love with his doctor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you were a vision in the morning

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I know nothing about concussions and everything you read in this fic was found on wikipedia.

Harry knew it was a bad idea the moment he agreed to watch Louis and the football team practice for their upcoming game on Saturday, but he can never seem to say no to his friends, no matter how hard he tries. It's a problem he's going to have to fix because he should really be studying for his exam next week, something he'd much rather be doing in the silence of the library instead of having the sounds of screaming boys and whistles in the background.

But he's a supportive friend and that's why he finds himself sitting up in the bleachers with a few other loyal team supporters and a few of the players' girlfriends who, like him, only show up for moral support.

He opens up his thick psychology textbook as soon as the first whistle blows and the team starts moving around the field, and Harry only feels slightly terrible for not paying attention, but he figures if it bothers Louis enough he'll send him back to the library.

He hopes it happens soon because he's finding it hard to concentrate on reading the words in front of him. After reading the same sentence five times, he reaches into his bag and pulls out his headphones and slips them into his ears, turning up his music just loud enough so he can block out the sounds around him.

It seems to work a bit, but no matter how much he turns up the volume he can't block out the shrill sound of the coach blowing the whistle from the sidelines. He really wishes he had stayed in the library.

A minute later Louis starts shouting, probably obscenities to another player or to the coach, but Harry can't quite make it out through the music in his headphones. But Louis doesn't _stop_ shouting, and that's what makes Harry look up, and his eyes widen instantly as he sees the ball hurtling straight for him. He's not quick enough to react, but even if he was, he wouldn't have been able to move away in time.

His head throbs from wear the ball connects with his skull, and he can hear Louis shouting his name as everyone on the field comes running toward him, but he doesn't know what happens after that because everything around him suddenly turns black.

Now he _really_ wishes he had stayed in the library.

-

When he comes to, there's a ringing in his ears and his head still throbs from where the ball hit him, and he's ready to curse at Louis for hitting him in the head with a fucking football, but when he sits up on his elbows he doesn't see him and that's when he realizes he's no longer on the field sitting in the bleachers - he's in the hospital.

He glances around the room and sees various machines and wires - none of them hooked up to him, thankfully - but no sign of Louis, or anyone. The only thing he sees is an IV stuck in his arm, dripping steadily. His winces when he feels his head throb again, and the pain's too much he has to lay back down.

"Careful there," comes a voice from the doorway. It's Irish, Harry notes. "How's your head?"

"Hurts," Harry croaks, rubbing at his temple.

"Take these, it should help with the pain," the voice says, drawing near as a hand comes into view, handing Harry two paracetamol in a small paper cup along with a glass of water. He turns his head to thank the person, but his breath hitches and the words get caught in his throat.

Harry thinks he must be dreaming because there's no way the man standing before him - _Dr. Niall Horan_ , Harry reads on the front of his white coat - is actually real; he's way too young to be a doctor. He's dead, he thinks. Louis hit him too hard in the head and he died, and now there's an angel dressed as a doctor standing in front of him to take him to heaven.

"Are you okay?" Niall asks, cutting through his thoughts and Harry blinks a few times because he can't do much more than stare.

"Are you an angel? You're pretty," Harry blurts before he can really stop himself. He's not even sure if he said that out loud, and he doesn't know if his injured head is to blame or if it's the pretty stranger standing in front of him.

Niall laughs and it's like music to Harry's ears. "No, I'm not," he says, looking at Harry with a small smirk and lowering his voice. "And you're not so bad yourself."

"Am I dead?" Harry asks, because he has to be, there's no way an attractive doctor like Niall would be flirting with Harry right now.

Niall laughs again, and Harry smiles proudly, because it's only been a few minutes and he's already made him laugh twice. "No, you're not. You do have a concussion, though," he says, glancing down at the clipboard that Harry didn't realize he was holding.

"Are you sure you're a doctor? You look as old as me," Harry says before finally swallowing the two paracetamol that have been sitting untouched in his hands for the last few minutes. He quickly drains his glass of water and he wonders how long he's been passed out, if he's this thirsty.

"You sure are full of questions today, aren't you, Harry?" Niall says, and normally Harry would take the hint and shut his mouth right then, but Niall's still smiling like he doesn't mind. He's glad, because he's having trouble controlling all the thoughts spilling from his mouth - and he also wants to hear Niall say his name again. "But you're right, I am a bit younger than most of the doctors here, but I assure you, I'm highly qualified to treat you."

"So how old are you, then?" Harry asks curiously, finding his eyes trailing down to Niall's mouth as he watches him speak.

"I'm 22. I skipped a year and graduated medical school early."

"Really?" Harry asks, his eyes and mouth opening wide in wonder. "So does that mean you're, like, really smart?"

Niall laughs again as he nods modestly, and Harry finds he loves the sound more and more each time he hears it. It almost makes him forget about the pain throbbing under his skull.

"My mum definitely seems to think so. Well, I'll let you rest and let your family know they can see you now," Niall says, writing something down on the clipboard before glancing at Harry with a warm smile that makes butterflies flutter in his stomach that don't go away, even when Niall mutters, "Feel better, Harry," before leaving the room.

A moment later Anne comes rushing into the room, her face looking frantic as she reaches for Harry's hand. Louis and Gemma emerge on either side of her, looking down at Harry and surveying him carefully.

"Mate, I'm so, so,  _so_ sorry, I didn't mean to hit you, I swear - oh, God, definitely not in the head - and when I tried to warn you, you couldn't hear-" Louis rushes out, but Harry waves him off, because he knows Louis wouldn't intentionally hit him in the head with a football, no matter how many times he's threatened to.

"It's fine," he says firmly, and he can see Louis breathe a sigh of relief even though his shoulders still seem tense.

"Are you alright, love?" Anne asks softly.

"I'm fine, mum," he says.

"Was that your doctor?" Louis suddenly asks, pointing his thumb over his shoulder toward the door. "He seems a bit young, doesn't he?"

Anne ignores him, brushing Harry's hair away from his face and rubbing a soothing finger over the back of his hand, but Harry can see Gemma hit Louis upside the head, as he squawks an indignant, "What?"

"Yeah, he's beautiful, isn't he?" Harry says dreamily, closing his eyes and picturing the blonde of Niall's hair, the blueness of his eyes and the bright white of his smile behind his eyelids. It's definitely a picture Harry would like to see more of.

"I think it's time for you to rest," Anne announces, kissing Harry's temple and releasing his hand. She lowers her voice when she turns around and says, "You two, out."

-

He's not sure when he fell asleep, but Harry wakes up again to someone opening each eye and shining a bright light into them. He flinches, closing his eyes tight and turning away from the source of the light.

"He's awake!" a familiar voice says above him. Harry opens his eyes again, even though there's still a light shining in them and it hurts a bit to look up at it, and sees Niall standing over him, flicking off the flashlight and smiling warmly down at him. "Feeling better?"

"I am now," he mutters, and there's obviously still no filter on his mouth, but he still manages to catch the slight quirk to Niall's mouth.

"Good to hear," Niall says, writing on the clipboard again. When Harry lifts his head, he can see the room is empty again. "Any pain in your head?"

"A bit," Harry says. He can still feel a dull throb at the back of his skull, but it's not as bad as it was before.

Niall hums in acknowledgement, still writing away on his clipboard. He rips off a piece of paper from a prescription pad and hands it over to Harry, who takes it with a shaking hand, his fingers brushing Niall's slightly as he takes the paper from him. "Take two paracetamol every four to six hours as needed for the pain, get some rest and you should be fine. Come back if you develop any new symptoms within the next twenty-four hours or if your head still hurts, but for now, I think you're free to go."

Harry nods, and he sees Niall writing on another sheet of the prescription pad.

"And I suggest staying away from football fields for a while," Niall adds, and Harry finds himself laughing.

"I promise," Harry says all too quickly, because now he has a reason to say no the next time Louis wants to drag him to one of his practices. He's staying in the library from now on, where there aren't any stray footballs flying around.

Niall rips off the sheet he was writing on and hands that over to Harry as well. Harry glances down at it, expecting to see the name of some medication he can't pronounce, but there aren't any words written on it - only ten numbers.

"What's this?" Harry asks dumbly.

"My number," Niall supplies. "For when you feel better. Text me and we can grab a coffee sometime."

Harry stares between the paper in his hands and Niall a few times before he swallows thickly, and nods, mumbling, "Okay." He was so talkative before, and now he finds himself struggling for words. "I will, yeah."

Niall smiles at him one last time before leaving the room once again. Just like the last time, Anne, Gemma and Louis walk in not even a minute later and ask Harry how he's feeling. He's still a bit dumbstruck, smiling dopily at the piece of paper with Niall's number written on it.

"Looks like somebody's feeling better," Louis teases. "What've you got there?" Louis reaches for the paper in Harry's hand, but Harry immediately jerks his hand away. His reflexes are still a bit sluggish, and Louis' able to wrestle the paper easily from Harry's grip. "Ooh, what's this? Get the nurse's number, did you?"

"No," Harry mumbles, pouting like a petulant child when Louis keeps the paper out of Harry's reach when he tries to grab it back. "It's Niall's, now give it back."

"Niall? Who's Niall?" Louis asks, furrowing his eyebrows at Harry.

"The doctor, you idiot," Gemma chimes in, moving to slap Louis upside the head again, but Louis ducks out of the way.

"Are you serious?" Louis says incredulously. "I've been pacing outside you room for the last six hours feeling like a terrible friend for kicking a football at your head, and the whole time you've been flirting with the doctor?"

"Yeah," Harry says shamelessly, trying to hide the smile that's threatening to take over his face, but he knows he's doing a terrible job at it.

"What the fuck, mate?" Louis says, even though he's smiling. "At least get me one of the nurse's phone numbers."

"Only if you promise not to hit me in the head with any more footballs," Harry says sternly, pointing a finger at Louis.

"Deal." Louis grins.

-

When Harry finally texts Niall to meet him for coffee, he's a bit surprised by how quickly he accepts. His heart flutters the entire time they talk, even as he tells Niall how he's studying psychology and is graduating this year. But Harry finds it much more interesting to listen to Niall talk, about how he moved from Ireland to London to study medicine, and how much he really enjoys treating people and saving lives (maybe Harry was right and he really _is_ an angel). And even more than that, Harry loves hearing Niall laugh, his heart swelling with pride each time he laughs at one of his jokes.

They talk for what feels like hours, and Harry doesn't remember the last time it was this easy to fall into conversation with someone. He might just have to thank Louis, because if he hadn't have hit Harry in the head he wouldn't have met Niall.

It's nearly dark by the time they finally leave the coffee shop, and it's a bit chilly as Niall walks Harry back to his flat, but Harry quickly forgets about the cold when Niall tentatively kisses him goodbye when they reach his doorstep. Harry can feel his cheeks go warm and he leans forward to kiss Niall again, because each kiss seems to warm a new part of his body.

"I had a nice time," Harry murmurs, wrapping his coat tighter around him because the wind's picked up a bit.

"Me too," Niall says with a smile, still standing close enough to Harry that he's sure he can feel the heat radiating off of Niall. "Are you free tomorrow?"

"I am," Harry says.

"Would you like to have dinner with me tomorrow night?" Niall asks.

Harry nods, his cheeks hurting a bit from the cold and how big he's smiling. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Niall smiles in return and leans forward to press a kiss to the corner of Harry's mouth. "See you tomorrow night, then," he says, and Harry can feel his stomach flip in anticipation. He never would've imagined a ball to the head would've led to two dates with an attractive doctor.

He's _definitely_ going to thank Louis later.


End file.
